Following Destiny
by bookLEECH-missionETERNITY
Summary: She was hidden away her entire life. Now she is marked. When the outsiders find out about her special powers, will they use her to try to get revenge on Zoey Redbird? Rated T 'cause I'm paranoid. Please REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**************Prologue**************

Vampires: blood sucking fiends that have been granted eternal life.  
Fallen angels cursed with the punishment of never-ending existence, never to see paradise or even the eternal flame.  
They're just fables, stories right? Nothing to lose sleep over.  
Nothing to worry about in a dark alley, save that for the real criminals, the ones with guns, not fangs.  
But in my town, they're not just fairy tales. In my town, they are very much _ALIVE_!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Again, I do not own House of Night and think that the original authors should get the credit for what they wrote.**

**Note- This story starts after Zoey is popular and somewhat in charge. Kalona is not yet in thepicture and Erik is a vampire. Heath is imprinted to Zoey the entire time because I really don't like what happened with Zoey and the poet/teacher.**

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******Chapter 1******

I always knew I was different. My parents home schooled me my entire life and always hid me when we had visitors, especially the ones that came at night. They said these were the most dangerous, these strangers hidden by the mist. They gave us the money we needed, even though my parents were afraid of them. I was more curious than afraid; these mysterious people that provided for us, who came at night, cloaked in darkness. These were the only people I ever saw besides my family. We didn't have friends, my family. We had acquaintances, or enemies. My mother always said, "Trust is earned, don't just hand it over. To anyone." Not that I had anyone to hand it to. No one ever came to see me. No one knew I existed, not even the vampires. I knew about them, and not just from books and movies, of which I had in abundance. I had heard my parents talk about getting their clients "donations."

My parents gathered blood, by whatever means they could. My parents had worked in morgues, hospitals, blood drives, janitors in factories with heavy machinery and a tendency for majors of fatal accidents, even in bars where they could take home drunken victims and drain them.

They tried to keep me away from all this, but it was no use. I was good at hiding, at being invisible. I could fade into the background so well, I could walk before someone's very eyes without being caught. Of course, it helped having a superpower.

I am not joking; I can see your smirk. I am not a silly child who has cracked from lack of human contact. I've seen it; I've felt it; I've had witnesses. If I wanted snow while it was raining, the drops would harden into delicate flakes, even in 40˚F weather, or even higher. If the day was humid, and I felt like I couldn't breathe, water would start dripping from the ceiling and rain would fall outside, without the accompanying clouds. Ours was the only house on the block that would be green during a drought. No one ever had to shovel our sidewalk; it would simply melt to the ground as harmless water. Icicles would shimmer on our porch all winter long, through blistering wind and sunshine-y thaws, they stayed glittering authentically. At first I didn't notice that I was the one doing it, and when I did, I started to experiment with it.

I began with little things: taking the condensation from the mirror after a shower, evaporating a pot of water, melting chocolate. Then I went to testing myself: solidifying cookies before they even went in the oven, placing an ice cube in the oven at 250 and increasingly higher temperatures while I kept it cold, turning our entire yard from frozen clay to clingy mud. I cooked entire dinners without one electrical appliance.

My parents started to notice. They forbid me to do anything more, but I ignored them. They became more frantic, jumping at every sound, always glancing toward the windows, even though they had been closed since before I can even remember. They kept me locked in my hidden attic room more and more, whether to study, or read, or just to stay out of sight. The paranoia reached its peek the day I turned fourteen. They stuffed me into my hiding place, my living space, my haven, with a year's supply of canned goods and refused to let me out. I learned my school lessons through the thick oak door that was my gate to freedom, as well as the barrier used to prevent my escape.

The alarm clock gave a dull glow to the darkened space, as well as the ever changing number that became meaningless to me. I no longer turned on the light; I had grown accustomed to the darkness and the shadows that had become my friends, the black midnight that knew me so well. It hid me when I asked, shrouded me in its fearless embrace. When I was hungry, I ate. When I was tired, I slept. My lessons came when the clock said 2:00 A.M. At least, when the night people, the vampires, did not come. I could hear them downstairs as they whispered.

The thick wooden boards were nothing to me; I used them as instruments, tools, bending them to my will. The carried the sound I so desperately wanted to hear, so I used them, stealing their faint vibration as they formed the precious whispers that were what I waited for, day after day. Days in silence had tuned my ears to hear the muffled sounds of the faded life that surrounded me. I could hear the mice scuttling across the basement floor; I could hear the spider spinning her deadly web; I could hear the bats opening there eyes in the eternal night.

Solids no longer hindered me; I could melt them like ice. The door could have been my escape, or the floor that I had become so accustomed to, or even the ceiling, if I wanted, but I chose to be captured, to be imprisoned. Here I was safe, here I could harm no one, hurt no one as I had done countless times. When my emotions went out of control, so did my power. I had injured, caused accidents, broken things vital to a person's body, things that are meant to stay intact. I had melted things that were not meant to melt, hardened things that were meant to move and flow. Here was where no one could hurt me, harm me, as my father warned me of time and time again.

Here I had no one to love, no one to love me. Love was dangerous. It could make you hesitate. It could make you crazy. It could send you out of your mind. It copuld make you do things that you would not do otherwise. It could hurt you.

I love no one but my parents. They were saving me; I knew it. They did not have to tell me; I knew.

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**If I do not get at least five reviews from five different people I will not continue the story. So please review!**

**P.S. This chapter is not quite done yet so keep on checking for updates.**


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